


Almost Lost

by samuelbyrnes



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 17:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samuelbyrnes/pseuds/samuelbyrnes
Summary: Getting stabbed hurts. The sudden, piercing pain, the breath rushing out of you, the warm gush of blood as it slowly soaks your shirt...it all happens in an instant, but it feels like forever. The jumble ofpanicfearpainmakes it hard to try and get a breath, to get your bearings.





	Almost Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Throwing in my version of how I think the mid-season finale should've gone (or something along those lines). The working title for this was "I Reject Your Reality and Substitute My Own", because the mid-season finale was all sorts of bullshit, so I made this. So there.

Getting stabbed hurts. The sudden, piercing pain, the breath rushing out of you, the warm gush of blood as it slowly soaks your shirt...it all happens in an instant, but it feels like forever. The jumble of _panicfearpain_ makes it hard to try and get a breath, to get your bearings. Jesus blinks, trying to breathe and only managing small gasps. He shivers when the walker behind him leans forward, their breath rasping over his ear.

" _You...are where...you do not...belong._ " 

The blade is yanked out and he falls, landing hard in a graceless heap. He hears a shout and rushing footfalls, hears fighting and the sickening crunch of a blade through skull and a body falling down dead before it quiets. He stares up at the fog, blinking slowly as he tries to breathe through the pain. He manages a small smile when Aaron skids to his knees next to him, his eyes wide and anxious. It bleeds into relief once he realizes Jesus is still alive, tears gathering and falling as a smile breaks out over his face. 

He looks up, simply saying, "He's alive." 

Jesus almost laughs when he hears Daryl grunt. He turns his head a bit and sees Daryl staring at him, then out at the fog, frowning deep. 

"Ain't outta th' woods yet," he says, fingers tight on his crossbow strap. "Got more incomin'." 

"Then we need to leave," Michonne says crisply. 

"Can we be sure there's not more of _them_?" one of the newcomers asks. 

"We don't," Daryl says, scowling at the walker. "We even sure they're walkers?" 

"Sure looks like a walker to me," Eugene mumbles from his space by the wall. 

Michonne frowns and goes over to the walker, crouching down for a closer look. Her brow furrows as she reaches a hand out, brushing aside some of the hair. "What the..." 

Daryl goes over and crouches down beside her. He hums softly as he takes out a knife and begins cutting where Michonne was looking. He then takes hold of the hair and starts pulling, wiggling it around until it finally pops free. It was clear they were both expecting more than just the skin of the walker because both their brows shoot up before they look down at the body. Staring back at them was the face of a man, not a walker. 

"The hell?" Daryl mumbles, looking back at the walker face and twisting it around. 

"We'll figure it out later," Michonne says and stands. "We need to get out of here, now." 

Daryl nods and drops the walker skin as he stands. He goes over to Aaron and Jesus, crouching down. He glances at Jesus before turning his attention to Aaron. 

"He gonna be a'right?" he asks. 

Aaron nods. "I think so," he replies, "but we need to put pressure on the wound before it gets worse." 

Daryl nods and gets out a different knife, silently asking permission before slicing off Aaron's sleeves. There's the sound of ripping from elsewhere and Daryl looks up when more fabric is thrust at him. He nods his thanks at the newcomer and takes the fabric, watching as she spins and goes back to the other newcomer, crossing her arms and frowning. He and Aaron get Jesus upright, Aaron murmuring apologies when Jesus sucks in a pained breath. They carefully get him out of the armor before Daryl hands two pads of fabric to Aaron, who promptly puts them on both wounds. Daryl then fashions a long strap from the rest of the fabric, looping it around Jesus and over the pads, cringing when he ties it tight and Jesus lets out a pained cry. 

"I'm alright," Jesus murmurs when Daryl opens his mouth. He smiles lightly. "The tighter, the better, right?" 

For some reason, that makes Daryl blush and duck his head. Jesus had a brief, fleeting thought that blushing was a good look on the archer before shoving it aside to focus on the now. They get the armor back on him, then help him stand. It's then that they start hearing the walkers, and soft rasping whispers under that. 

" _Keep...them together._ " 

" _Don't...let them...escape._ " 

Eugene whimpers, trying to curl further into the wall. Michonne falls into a defensive stance, eyes darting around. 

"We need to leave," she says, hands tight on her sword. 

Aaron turns to Jesus. "Can you walk?" he asks. 

"Walk, yes," Jesus replies, grimacing. "Running, I'm not so sure." 

"I'll help 'im," Daryl says, shaking his head when Aaron opens his mouth. "Help Eugene. I got this." 

Aaron looks like he wants to argue, but he closes his mouth and nods tightly. He goes over to Eugene, one of the newcomers doing the same, her face brooking no argument that she was going to help him. Daryl turns his attention to Jesus, noting the pinched look on his face. 

"Y'gonna be a'right?" he asks. 

"Going to have to be," Jesus replies with a shrug. 

Daryl hums softly. Soon enough, they're making their way out of the cemetery, Michonne taking the lead while the other newcomer trails behind. It's slow going with the fog so thick and two of them injured, but they somehow manage to make ground with little incident. It's once they hit the tree line that things go sideways. The fog thins out so it's easier to see, but it also means that they've lost their cover, which puts them in clear sight of the walkers. Daryl sees the way Eugene freezes, hears his whimper as his eyes land on the herd. Aaron and the newcomer have to force Eugene to move, practically dragging him through the underbrush. Daryl thinks he hears someone mumbling about not making it and frowns. 

Suddenly, without warning, a walker barrels towards them, closely followed by more and panic breaks out. Arrows fly through the air, some hitting their target while others miss entirely. Daryl hears Eugene's panicked cries, hears the cursing from the other newcomer and Aaron's soft words, trying to get them moving. He glances at Jesus, who looks back at him with a determined set to his mouth. 

"Help them," he says, wincing as he squirms in Daryl's arm. "I'll be fine, but help them." 

"Y'can barely hold yerself up," Daryl says. 

"So, prop me up somewhere," Jesus retorts. He taps at his sword when Daryl opens his mouth. "I can defend myself if I need to." 

Daryl makes a frustrated sound, but nods. He props Jesus up against a tree, waiting until the other unsheaths the sword before swinging up his crossbow and turning, letting a bolt fly. It hits true and Daryl loads up another, cursing softly when he fires it and it misses. Jesus watches the others fight off the walkers, and not-walkers, fingers tapping at the hilt of his sword. They all collectively startle when one of them screams as Michonne takes out one of the not-walkers. 

"Joshua!" 

Paul blinks. "They have names?" 

Daryl scoffs at the mumbled question, glancing back briefly. Jesus shrugged a little helplessly and Daryl huffed a sigh and turned back. The one that screamed charged at Michonne, but darted back when Michonne swung her sword in their direction, clipping them in the shoulder rather than their head. The not-walker fell to the ground with a cry, staring at the wound with wide, shocked eyes. They looked up at Michonne, her sword held aloft to deliver a killing blow, but hesitated when their eyes met. 

"Please don't," they say softly. 

Michonne frowns, lowering her sword a little. "Why shouldn't I?" she asks. 

When they simply kept staring at her, Michonne lifts the sword again, intending to kill the not-walker when Aaron steps in front of her, frowning. 

"Move," she says. 

"She might know something," Aaron says. "She'd be able to give us answers." 

"So we should keep her?" Michonne asks, frowning. "Let her know where we live?" 

Aaron makes a face. "Something tells me they already know," he says. "We kill her now, we won't know how to defend ourselves against another attack, or how many there are." 

Michonne appeared to debate with herself for several long minutes before finally heaving a sigh and lowering her sword. Aaron smiled and nodded in thanks before moving away. Michonne frowned at the not-walker, eyes narrow. 

"How many more are out there?" she asks. 

The not-walker tilted her head. "Not many," she replies. 

"Then we have to move," Michonne says decisively. 

She walks up to the not-walker and hauls her up roughly, ignoring the cry of pain. With one hand on her sword and the other wrapped tight around the not-walkers arm, she marches forward, making everyone else scramble to follow. Daryl watches her as he puts his bow on his back, then turns to Jesus with an uncomfortable look. 

"Don't think we'll keep up the way she's walkin'," he says, scuffing a foot, "so 'm sorry fer what I'm 'bout t' do." 

Jesus gets as far as, "What do you..." before he's hauled up on Daryl's shoulder. He hisses in pain when Daryl adjusts his hold and starts walking, steps careful, but quick. Jesus catches the surprised look of the others as they're passed, shrugging when Aaron gives him a particularly confused look. 

"Can't say I'm arguing about the view," he quips, laughing lightly when Daryl spits out a few curses. 

"I'll drop ya," Daryl growls. "Don't think I won't." 

Jesus hums, but says nothing. It doesn't take long to get to the horses. None of them question how they managed it without running into more walkers and not-walkers. Instead, they simply climb onto the horses and make haste to Hilltop. 

~ 

"It's going to take some time to heal, even longer if you don't take it easy." 

Jesus makes a face, but nods. Siddiq smiles lightly at Jesus as he places gauze over the stitches on one side, then the other, carefully taping both down. He then goes over to the medicine cupboard to grab something, returning with a bottle in hand. 

"If you need them," Siddiq says as he hands over the bottle. 

Jesus took the bottle, murmuring a soft, "Thank you." 

Siddiq nods, looking over at Aaron. "Make sure he rests," he says. "The stitches need to come out in a week or so, depending on how he heals. Make sure to keep the areas clean; I'm sure none of us want him to have an infection." 

"I'll keep him occupied," Aaron says, then flushes when he realizes the implications. "I mean, not like that. I mean, like, y'know..." 

Jesus laughs softly while Siddiq shakes his head. They exchange a few more words before Siddiq departs. Aaron helps Jesus put a shirt on, then helps him walk out of the medical trailer and into his own, guiding him to sit on the couch. 

"I'm not an invalid, you know," Jesus says, a little petulantly. 

"I know," Aaron says easily, rummaging through the cupboards idly. "Just wanted to help." 

"You can help by sitting with me," Jesus suggests. 

Aaron hums. "Food first," he says. 

They both freeze when there's a knock on the door. They share a brief look before Aaron goes over and opens the door, blinking in surprise when he sees Daryl on the stoop, a tray in his hands. When the silence stretches, Daryl ducks his head and shuffles his feet, chewing on his lower lip. Almost immediately, Aaron opens the door wider and steps aside, letting Daryl inside the trailer. Jesus smiles at the archer, glancing at the tray, then back up. 

"What brings you here?" he asks. 

Daryl wobbles the tray a bit. "Figured y'might need food," he replies simply. 

Jesus tilts his head just as Aaron says, "You didn't have to do that." 

Daryl shrugs, putting the tray down on the table. "Wasn't sure what y'had in th' cupboards," he says. 

Jesus squints a bit. "You know what I have in my cupboards, though," he says. 

Daryl flushes and ducks his head, mumbling something too soft to be heard. Jesus sighs and shakes his head, smiling fondly. Aaron glances between them, then shakes his head as well. He lightly claps Daryl on the shoulder as he passes the other, pulling the cover off the tray, whistling appreciatively. 

"This from the kitchens?" he asks, inhaling the delicious aroma of the food. He looks up when Daryl remains quiet, the flush now darker on his cheeks; he smiles. "Made it yourself, then?" 

Jesus perks up when the smell reaches him. "Is that your stew?" he asks. 

Daryl nods silently and Jesus makes a soft sound, hands reaching out in little grabbing motions. Aaron chuckles softly and lifts up a bowl, grabbing a spoon before bringing it over to Jesus. Jesus practically snatches the bowl out of Aaron's hands, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling deeply, sighing softly as his eyes flutter closed. He opens his eyes and looks at Daryl, smiling wide. 

"Thanks, Daryl," he says. 

Daryl gives a half-shrug. "Weren't nothin'," he says. 

"You don't usually go all out with your stew," Jesus remarks, lightly teasing as he takes the spoon Aaron hands him. "Maybe I should get hurt more often." 

He startles when there's a pair of wounded noises and two pairs of eyes staring at him. They're both equally devastated and what seems like the span of a blink, both men are on the couch with him. 

"Don't say shit like that," Daryl growls, bumping their heads together. "Almost lost ya last night." 

"What he said," Aaron says, crowding in close. "I don't know what either of us would do without you." 

Jesus would make a quip about them having each other, but he knows it wouldn't go down well. Instead, he settles down into the cushions, making sure not to jostle his bowl of stew too much. Aaron stretches down to remove both his shoes and Jesus' before snuggling in next to the scout. Daryl gets up to retrieve the tray and coming back, waiting for Jesus to lift his arm before setting the tray down in his lap. He then takes his own bowl and sits on the couch, relaxing enough to brush their legs together. It's a little warm being trapped between the two, but it's comfortable and more than a little reassuring, so Jesus doesn't complain about it. He digs into his stew, savoring each bite and basking in the feeling of safety and contentment. A thought comes to him and he grins, swallowing his mouthful. 

"You know," he says slowly. "Maybe once I'm better we can have some fun throwing each other around." He gives Daryl a look, who immediately blushes darkly. "See who's the better _man_ -handler. What do you say?" 

Aaron starts laughing while Daryl splutters, almost spilling his stew. Jesus bites on his lower lip, eyes practically sparkling as he waits for Daryl's reply. Slowly, Daryl peeks over at him and nods, but there's a playfulness in his eyes. Jesus waggles his eyebrows as he settles back down. 

"Excellent," he purrs. "Soon as I'm able, your ass is mine." 

He starts eating again, heedless of Daryl's protests.

**Author's Note:**

> *throws hands up helplessly*


End file.
